


and it’s no sacrifice

by rizcriz



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Other, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:39:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizcriz/pseuds/rizcriz
Summary: He wishes he could say goodbye to them. But he doubts they’ll even notice he’s gone. He doesn’t mind. He’d have helped them no matter what; they’re his friends. Even if he’s not theirs. They’ll probably never even know it was him; that he sacrificed himself for them, for magic.





	and it’s no sacrifice

Exhausted, Todd smiles as he falls to his knees and the atmosphere around him shifts, as the spells on his friends finally breaks. He’s not sure where they are, but he can feel it splintering through the air around him. Knows that soon they’ll come back and they’ll fix everything, like they always do.

 

He heaves in a deep breath and falls forward, catching himself on his hands on the Brakebills lawn as the Libraries people come running towards him from all different directions. He’s so tired, bones ache deep, like someone’s taken a jack hammer directly to them. Chest is so sore he can practically feel every beat of his heart. Lungs heavy and full, desperate for air but barely able to drag in a wheezing breath.

 

He forces his head up as a hacking cough forces its way out of his throat, and the taste of iron settles on his tongue. At least thirty of the Library’s minions are racing across the lawn towards him. He wonders if they think they’ll get him to tell them how he accessed the magic. It doesn’t matter; he won’t tell them anything.

 

He chuckles bitterly to himself, the sound disappearing beneath the aching burn of another cough, forcing itself out from the very bottom of his lungs. Even if they do get to him, it won’t matter. He knows the cost for what he’s done for his friends. He’ll die long before they get any kind of answers.

 

His elbows buckle and he crashes into the grass, legs twisting as his entire body collapses into the slippery early morning dew.

 

He struggles to open his eyes and look up towards the sky. Part of him hopes that this isn’t the end—that he’ll get to see the sun rise once more over Brakebills.

 

But that’s hours away, and no matter how naive everyone thinks he is—

 

He’s not naive enough to think he’ll make it to morning.

 

It’s worth it, though.

 

His friends are going to come back, and are going to be imbued with so much magic the Library doesn’t have a chance. Coughing angrily, he pushes up on trembling arms, glaring defiantly up at the librarians rushing towards him from beneath his hair.

 

They don’t have a chance. Even if they manage to heal him.

 

His arm gives out, and he allows himself to roll over onto his back so he can gaze up at the stars and clouds.

 

It’s not bad, as far as last moments go.

 

He wishes he could say goodbye to them. But he doubts they’ll even notice he’s gone. He doesn’t mind. He’d have helped them no matter what; they’re his friends. Even if he’s not theirs. They’ll probably never even know it was him; that he sacrificed himself for them, for magic.

 

But it’s okay.

 

It was worth it.

 

Something sticky and wet slips over his cheek, and the smell of iron wafts up through his nose. It’s not as painful as Fogg made it out to be; dying. He can barely feel it anymore. His body quakes as a coughing fit hits, and he squeezes his eyes shut, wonders when it’ll pass. Wonders when he’ll pass.

 

He can’t feel anything. It’s like he’s a passenger in his own body. Experiencing it all without having to suffer.

 

Wonders if that’s a gift from the spell, from magic, for freeing it. He had to sacrifice himself, but in return it’s painful.

 

Opening his eyes, he expects to meet the stars one last time before it’s all over—but there’s a blurry figure leaning over him. Long brown hair cascades around him, makes the whole world fade away. He wonders if it’s an angel, or his mother. It’s probably neither. It’s probably one of the librarians people, ready to take him away for answers.

 

He pushes at them with tingling fingers, shaking his head unsteadily. He almost feels drunk. “No—too late,” he slurs, weakly pushing at their hands. “Can’t have them. We win.”

 

He wants to say bitches, because that’s what Quentin would say. ‘We win, bitches!’ But the word dies in his throat.

 

The angel leans in, because he’d rather like to believe the woman carting him off into that sweet goodbye is an angel and not a tormentor on the Library’s pay roll. She leans in, wrapping her arms around him.

 

“I’ve got you, Todd.” And she sounds so familiar.

 

Maybe it is his mom. Maybe he does get to go to the underworld and be reunited with his mother after all.

 

Maybe Fogg was wrong.

 

A gleaming white light appears, and he thinks this is it. This is his final goodbye. He squints through the light at the angel, reaches up into her silhouette and cups her cheek. Just in case he doesn’t get to follow her to the underworld, he has to. . .

 

He has to tell her.

 

Because he didn’t before he left for Brakebills. Before she died.

 

“Love you, ma.”

 

He smiles, so sleepy, so tingly, and lets his eyes flutter closed.

 

Everyone’s going to be fine, now.

 

“God damn it, Todd—“

 

His hand falls to his chest with a soft thump as everything goes dark, and all sound softly fades away until there’s nothing left.

 


End file.
